Flashback
by Titan16
Summary: Six has PTSD. And it all just goes downhill from there.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer- Somehow, The Lab isn't mine.**

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Six felt his hands shake as he ripped the cap off of the bottle. His breath came in short, heavy pants as the voices-

_{"You will be _punished_ for your blasphemy."}_

-sliced through his thoughts, images layering over his vision as now-familiar flashbacks flooded over him.

He dumped a small mound of pills into his hand, _{"You are a _parody _of a human being."}_ shoved them all down his throat, and tried not to choke at the bitter taste. The fits had been getting steadily worse since they had first started two years ago.

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Barely a week after he got his dog tags, he had come to King, desperate for relief, but knowing that if he told anybody else he'd be taken off duty.

He'd agree with them, if missions weren't the only thing that stopped the panic.

King had responded by giving him bottles of small, bitter pills that had to be taken twice a day. As time went on, he took more and more at a time, as well as taking them at least four times a day. He not only knew that his tolerance was part of the reason his attacks were coming back, but that he was addicted to the pills as well. After trying to go a day without their bitter taste in his mouth, he was shoved into place by the creeping exhaustion, loss of focus, and general irritability that had plagued him.

He'd been choking the images down until he'd gotten home, but after his rescue mission with Kyntak and Vanish, the memories had hammered him until the threat of death and the snick of safety's being released was the only thing that could stop them.

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Slowly, he felt a blanket of calm flow over him, loosening his taunt muscles and making him want nothing more than to slide slowly to the ground. Forcefully, he staggered to his bed, collapsing into the perfectly made sheets and sinking into hazy dreams before he could even take off his boots.

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**Because, really, how does Six _not_ have PTSD? Anyway, no promises on updates due to school and sports, but I'll ty to have chapter two up ASAP. PLEASE review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer-Still not mine!**

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_The first thing he noticed was the crows. Big, black, stinking birds that flocked down, feathers molting, surrounding him, chocking him, coating his body like a funeral shroud._

_Six ran, chest heaving, sneakers pounding in time with his rapid heartbeat. Soon, the birds were so thick he could barely breathe, let alone see. The fear pumping though his veins, though, refused to allow him to slow down, to gather his bearings. _

_At a noise, he whipped his head around, a _rookie _mistake and tripped himself in the process. As he fell, he stuck out his hands, and they sank to his elbows into the feathers, which had melted into something very much like tar. As he dropped, spiraling down down into the darkness, guilt crushed him, the tar-like substance getting heavier and hotter, grinding his bones to dust, melting the flesh from his now-destroyed body, he opened his mouth to scream, but choked, gaging on feathers—_

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Six snapped awake, panting. His alarm clock shrieked loud enough to wake the dead, and he felt a flicker of shock.

He'd _always_ been a light sleeper, now even more than ever.

He slammed a hand down on the silence button, snapping the plastic slightly. He blinked, and noticed a slight haze around the room. He felt hot, trickles of sweat down racing his spine, his face. He glanced at his clock, and squinted at the numbers.

Four o clock? That was when he usually woke up…. _Wasn't it?_ He frowned, and thought sluggishly.

No… he usually woke up at seven. So why… oh.

_Oh._

He had a mission.

In an _hour._

He lept out of the bed, and staggered a little. The world tilted, but he shoved it away, still panting.

Heat ravaged his body, and when he looked in his bathroom mirror, he barely recognized himself. His skin was paler than usual; almost wax like, except for the dark red flush at the tops of his cheeks. Dark circles were carved under his too-bright eyes, and sweat matted his hair down to his skull.

Six swallowed, and felt his throat stick, since there was no saliva to coat it. He ripped his attention away from the mirror.

_Mission_, he thought blearily. _I have a mission._

He blinked slowly, and found it hard to open his eyes again. _Have a mission today… have to take my meds… _

He fumbled the drawer open, and found his bottle missing. He stared at the empty space before sighting the equally empty bottle on the counter.

_Empty._

If his breath could have sped up, it would have.

He gritted his teeth, and thought woozily, _Can get more...Just have to talk to King… after the mission…._

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Shuffling a sheath of papers, King reached across his desk to get a sip of water. He paused, and looked at the glass thoughtfully, thinking of his adoptive son and his_….. habit._

King sighed. When the boy had originally come to him, he'd only complained of bad dreams, memories. This, King knew, was common enough, especially considering Six's age, the one factor the boy often ignored.

He'd given the child simple sleeping pills, which had sometimes been used to treat PTSD before Takeover. King had thought they would solve the problem. But the teenager had kept coming back. King took a deep breath, and admitted, silently, that he'd given them to the boy because they were known to be addictive. Back then, Six had acted like little more than mercenary, and showed no particular preference towards his adoptive father.

King had felt the need for a backup, reassurance that Six wouldn't become a double agent for Chaosonic.

At fourteen, the boy had known about drugs, about addiction. He'd made busts at crack houses with all the other agents, withstood King's lectures, but King knew that _personal_ addiction, crippling, horrible _need_, had not been particularly taught to the boy.

Frowning, King felt ill, knowing that Six was probably at least somewhat _attached_ to his pills….

King rubbed is forehead, trying to ease his sudden migraine.

He knew now that the boy was completely loyal, with Kyntak and Ace here. And if his problem was more than dreams, surely Six would have said something by now. King nodded to himself. He'd take Agent Six off the pills today.

After all, he had no real need for them, right?

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**Sorry for the slow updates, but I can't promise any more speed. My muse comes and goes. Anyway, feel free to review...**

**Thanks to_ President Zaphod Beeblebrox, zuzuthezombie_, and Cassey11 for reviewing!**


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